


#16

by romans



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M, tiny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romans/pseuds/romans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Model!AU for the prompt:  <i>16. Hair/Makeup Stylist and Actor/Model!AU, Steve/Bucky.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	#16

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, now I'm going back to my other fics. Just playing a little hooky.

"Jesus Christ, Buck," Steve said, "when are they gonna let you cut your hair?" He threaded thin fingers through Bucky’s oily hair, holding it up in the mirror, and gave it a sharp tug. 

Bucky winced and glared at his stylist. Well, he thought of Steve as his, privately, even though Steve worked with most of the models at the shows he did. Bucky liked watching him while he worked. He was only five feet tall, probably (not that Bucky thought about it. Or, you know, liked it. Nope.), but he could cut the tallest Amazon down to size in less than ten minutes. Models had shit self-esteem anyways, but it was still fun to watch. 

Bucky figured he was the only one who Steve counted as a friend, though. So that was something. 

Steve dropped his hair, clucked, and dug through his kit for a comb. 

"He wants it in your eyes for some reason," he said, pulling sections of Bucky’s hair up and pinning them out of the way. His thumb grazed Bucky’s jawline and lingered. 

"You’re a makeup artist," Bucky said, bemused. "Don’t you like this artsy shit?"

"I," Steve said, pushing Bucky’s head forward to do something at the nape of his neck, "am _a fine arts student_ , looking for a way to pay rent.” 

"Really?" Bucky said. Steve sprayed something fragrant in his hair, cupping one hand over Bucky’s face in a casual way that made heat flare in Bucky’s gut. He’d never really asked how Steve had gotten into the business; cute little gay guy like him, it had seemed stupid to even ask.

Steve unclipped his hair and ran his fingers through it, mussing it carefully. Bucky closed his eyes and enjoyed the scrape of Steve’s fingers on his scalp. Tried to imagine those fingers smeared with pastels or paint. 

"Makeup," Steve said, spinning the seat around. Bucky was wearing a ridiculous one-armed leather getup, way too many straps and buckles to be practical, and Steve’s eyebrow flickered up as he took him in. Bucky spread his legs a little more, slouching into the seat. 

Steve dabbed foundation onto Bucky’s face with a brush and followed up with his fingers, tracing gently across the bridge of Bucky’s nose, his cheekbones, his parted lips. Bucky gave into temptation and nipped at the finger on his mouth, and heard Steve’s soft snort.

"Eyes closed," Steve said, and Bucky obeyed.

"Good," Steve said, over the plasticky sound of a makeup kit opening. He was closer than Bucky had expected him to be, his breath warm against Bucky’s face. His leg was brushing against Bucky’s calf. Bucky kept his eyes closed, obedient, and was rewarded with the sensation of Steve’s fingers on his skin, brushing gently over his fluttering eyelids. The pad of a thumb drew a broad arc across his eyebrow, and looped under his eyes, smearing something across his skin. Steve lingered on his temples and the soft skin around his eyes, and Bucky jumped when lips touched his forehead fleetingly. 

"Final touch," Steve said, a little husky. He ruffled Bucky’s hair one last time and turned the chair to face the mirror. Bucky opened his eyes.

Well, he thought, it was certainly a look. He looked like a one-armed assassin from hell. But it did bring out his eyes. His eyes flicked up to meet Steve’s in the mirror behind him. 

"Thanks," he said. "Hey, wanna skip the afterparty this time?" Fashion week was always nuts, and he usually enjoyed the parties, but maybe this time he could do something different.

"I might know a place," Steve said, resting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, and then, "don’t grin like that, it ruins the effect."


End file.
